“Detective?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Can you give me vitals?”
“Of course not! He’s alive, but just barely. Two wounds. Head and chest! Get me help! Now!” With her free hand she unzipped his jacket, felt the warmth and stickiness of his blood . . . so damned much blood. Beneath his shirt was the wound . . . dear God. Raw and gaping, bloody flesh beneath a torn mat of skin and chest hair. “Help me,” she whispered to a deity she rarely invoked.
“Detective?”
“I’m here. It’s bad. Chest wound, possibly heart or lung, or artery. Lots of blood loss. And the head wound, left side, above the temple . . . maybe through and through, I can’t tell. Look, we don’t have much time!”
“Officers and paramedics have been dispatched.”
“Tell them to get here fast!” She had to staunch the flow of blood and then . . . what? Her first-aid training took over and she tore off her own jacket, pulled the lining free, and used the interior side to press against his chest. “Get me on the line with a paramedic,” she ordered.
“They’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“That’s thirteen minutes too late!” she yelled in frustration. “For the love of God, get me help NOW!”
“Detective, stay calm. Help is on its way. Please stay on the line and—”
“Damned straight, I’ll stay on the line. Get someone the hell out here!” She was nearly hysterical, desperate to keep Grayson alive.
“Detective.”
“Yeah, I know!” She heard the frantic tone of her voice, and while holding fast to her makeshift bandage of lining, watching the fabric turn from tan to deep, dark red, she managed to talk herself down, told herself she had to stay in her head to help him.
Grayson sucked in a rattling breath.
Blood colored his lips.
Oh, Lord. She blinked against hot tears.
No way would she break down. Not now. Not while she could still help him.
“Hang in there!” Shivering, she willed him to live. “Come on, Dan, you stay with me. Hear me? You stay the hell with me.” But her voice cracked a little as she felt his lifeblood flowing through her fingers. Where the hell was the ambulance? She strained to hear a siren, or an engine, or any sign of help coming her way, but she heard only the rush of a brutal wind blowing through this desolate canyon.
God, it was cold. And terrifying.
Teeth chattering, she wouldn’t give up, couldn’t.
Could he see her? “Dan!” she yelled again. “Sheriff! Stay with me. Come on. Hang in there. Help is on its way.”
The dispatcher said, “I’ve got a trauma doctor on the line, you can speak directly to him.”
“Good,” she said, though her hope was fading fast. Grayson stared up at her, his face devoid of emotion. No pain. No recognition. Nothing. Deep in her heart, she feared it was already too late.
“I’ve got some bad news . . . the sheriff... looks like a sniper waiting for him . . . just lucky I was here . . . bullet wound to the chest . . . still alive but . . . I can’t freaking believe it . . .”
Disjointed pieces of the conversation with her partner kept surfacing in her brain as Alvarez drove to Grayson’s cabin, now a crime scene. Her throat was tight, her fingers gripping the wheel with enough force that her knuckles showed white over the wheel of her Subaru. Who would do this? Who would attack the man who’d led the department with intelligence and determination, yes, but also with kindness, empathy, and understanding?
“I’ll get you,” she vowed as she urged her Outback up the hill. She stopped at Grayson’s private lane, two snow-covered ruts that veered off the county road. Other vehicles were parked haphazardly near the entrance: department-issued vehicles, an unmarked rig, and a van from the forensic unit. Already at his post, Deputy Kayan Rule was monitoring the nearly nonexistent traffic and keeping a log of anyone who arrived. A tall black man in full uniform, his face was a mask of quiet, seething rage. Kayan was usually affable, a rock-steady influence with a sharp wit and dry sense of humor that wasn’t in evidence today.
Alvarez knew exactly how he felt.
Pulling her vehicle off the road as far as possible, she parked, then zipped up her boots and yanked on one glove. As she approached Rule, he said, “I hoped I’d never see this day.”
“I know. Me neither.” After signing in, she stretched her remaining glove over her right hand.